I jump out of bed, run& lock myself in the bathroom,where I find spots of brown & bright,sticky blood on my underwear.I sit on the toilet; legs spread,watching my body drip& the water getting taintedinto many shades of copper redwith the heat of my pissrising like healing vapors. I knewthe word menstruation. I knowthat all women have it—that they must bleed,must hurt—and nowI could get pregnant. & I don’t want it.I start to cry, not knowinghow I’m going to tell himwhy I can’t come out.

After a thousand whys & his manyplease come outs I confess,in dim light,with him on the other side of the door,I’m bleeding. When I come outhis eyes tear up. He speaks softly,Does your stomach hurt? He sits me on the couch& goes into the kitchen to his hiding secret placeI know about.After rattling pots & panshe comes back to me with cheeks blushinglike a pomegranate. He unwraps a Kotex pad& unfolds it onto his palm to show me how to use it.I already knew; mom had showed me once,but I don’t stop him.

When I crawl back into bed, he comes in the roombalancing a cup of hot chamomile tea& two aspirins in one hand,with mom’s letters on the other.He kisses my forehead& his fingertips brush my skinwhen he places a warm heating pad under my pajamasnear my bellybutton.He pulls his blanket over me& I inhale the heat of his breath.